7/30/2018: There are two more days left in this month, so be sure to hit up the Christmas in July for your free egg!

7/2/2018: July's New Post is up! With it we have the closing of the Dana Festival, a new event, new OTMs, swarms are back, and some other exciting things for shops!

3/5/2018: Woah, this is a huge news post! We have tons of updates, including OTMs, new swarms, some rule updates, and a new subforum! Check it out!!

2/19/2018: Our special week of Valentine Celebration ends on the 21st, so make sure you get your post in to get a free Sweetheart!

2/4/2018: Our monthly news post has been posted! Congrats to all of our OTM winners! Also, now's the perfect time to submit nominations for next month's OTMs! We're also looking for new staff, so please read the whole post!

A young undergraduate student studying pokemon genetics, social organization, and pre/natal development.

Ah, what avail our lofty engineers
If we can't take the planet by the ears, Or by the poles or simply by the scruff,And saying simply we have had enoughOf routine and monotony on earth,Where nothing's going on but death and birth

A castform makes a sudden, rasping noise, a little bit like a mallet hitting a sheet of metal, combined with sandpaper over leather. It's an odd noise, even a little eerie, if you're not familiar with it. It was 6:28pm and drizzling over the hills of Campana, and the cry of a castform echoed through the gently falling mist. Sunlight pierced through the cloud layer in uneven rays, drawing strange patterns of light and shadow over the grasses, and creating shafts of light through the rain that swept their way over the land like spotlights. Most of the wildlife was huddled up in dens or keeping quiet as they foraged. It wasn't yet late enough for the evening and night predators to emerge, but late enough that the day predators had all eaten their fills earlier -- as much as there were any predators, this close to a town. The only sounds were the faint hiss of mist, the fainter rustle of the breeze on the grass, and the cry of a castform. It was a quiet and uncanny place.

The castform in question -- too large and well-groomed and sleek to be a wild creature -- hovered gently above the grasses in its rain form, making little burbling noises of thought in between its echoing calls. It swept slowly over the land, searching the grass and the bushes, calling. It was getting late -- the biggest little one needed to be home for food and mantle-cuddles. When an infant castform was distressed, it tucked itself under the cloud-mantles of its parents and hid until it felt safe again; while this particular castform was vaguely aware that humans did not have cloud-mantles and were not, in fact, castforms, it had faith in the tried-and-tested solution for soothing unhappy children, and was certain that it merely needed to return the biggest little human to its human caretaker for mantle-cuddles and all would be well again. That its human caretaker was also the castform's beloved owner and therefore the best human in the world was simply ice on the cirrostratus.

Distant creatures heard the castform cry and took brief notice of it. They had busy lives of their own, even on such a mellow evening. There were dens to be dug; babies to be fed; food to be stockpiled for the coming colder times. They had little time to spare for a castform who showed no inclination to hunt or be hunted. Some huffed and moved onward. First that human child that came charging through being noisy and rude, and now this? They would forage somewhere else for today, thank you.

A young undergraduate student studying pokemon genetics, social organization, and pre/natal development.

Ah, what avail our lofty engineers
If we can't take the planet by the ears, Or by the poles or simply by the scruff,And saying simply we have had enoughOf routine and monotony on earth,Where nothing's going on but death and birth

The rain had been threatening all day, really, but it had only started actually drizzling a couple hours ago, and it wasn't a heavy rain. It meant that tucked underneath a clump of bushes down in a little valley between hills, eight-year-old Regina's hiding place was mostly dry, but the bush was dripping on her head and neck. Her face buried in her knobby, scrapped up knees, Regina tapped her finger against her shin every time she felt a droplet smack into her scalp and trace a wet path down her throat or face or back. She sat, hugged her knees tighter, and counted raindrops.

The call of a castform was a relatively familiar one to Regina, as her aunt's castform was one of her most frequent babysitters and playmates. But today, she didn't want to play. She just wanted everyone to leave her alone, she lived here now, and she wasn't ever going back. She was going to stay here and turn into an oddish, and no one ever expected an oddish to put on socks or have quiet hands. No one would tell a wild pokemon to "be a good girl", whatever that meant, without telling them what being a good girl looked like. If a pokemon didn't like a confusing rule, it could just ignore it, and no one would get mad because it was the trainer's own fault for being a bad trainer and anyway the pokemon was only a pokemon and couldn't be expected to understand if you didn't explain well enough. (Only a pokemon, ha. Pokemon were better than people, any day.)

(Regina was a smart girl. She knew, in her heart, that while turning into a pokemon and running away from her problems was a fond dream, it was also not a very practical or possible one. That didn't mean she wasn't allowed to imagine.)

Scrubbing the heel of her hand over her cheek and wiping the salt residue on her shorts, Regina let herself slide into happy daydreams of what it would feel like to photosynthesize. The baby hoppips always got so happy and sleepy in the sunlight, would it be like that? Being dozy and giggly and warm like waking up from a nice nap. That sounded fun. And nice. And better than eating gross mushy ew applesauce.

A young undergraduate student studying pokemon genetics, social organization, and pre/natal development.

Ah, what avail our lofty engineers
If we can't take the planet by the ears, Or by the poles or simply by the scruff,And saying simply we have had enoughOf routine and monotony on earth,Where nothing's going on but death and birth

Castforms didn't have the best sense of smell or taste, conventionally speaking, but they were creatures of air, and a particularly patient and well-trained castform could be taught to track a living creature by the movement of their breath or the evaporation of their sweat. This particular castform wasn't the most patient creature -- or the smartest, to be perfectly honest -- but it was both very well-trained and devoted to its owner. The faint traces of vapor in the air were hard to make out amidst all the rain, but water from the sky had a different flavor than water that came from a living thing. A thin thread of salt, a slightest touch of human pheromones, these things caught the castform's attention.

There was a human for sure out here! Well, it had already known that, technically speaking, but here-nearby rather than here-general, which was important. It had been looking the biggest little one for hours now, and surely it would be hungry and cold and ready to go home at any moment. The castform wasn't entirely sure what it was doing out here in the first place, anyway. The castform's best and most beloved owner -- so perfect! -- had attempted to explain in its own way, but all the castform had caught was something about other little humans. Where and why the biggest little human had met other little humans, and what this had to do with the biggest little human running into the hills and hiding, the castform wasn't quite sure, but it must have made sense to best-and-most-beloved-owner and biggest little human both, because here was the biggest little human, hiding under a bush, and here was the castform to fetch it home. How happy it must be to be found! The castform burbled comfortingly and floated down into the little valley, letting the biggest little human known that it was alright, the castform had found it and now they could go home. Poor little human, soggy wet and shivering cold and curled up like that. There would be food and mantle-cuddles, and then everything would be better.

A young undergraduate student studying pokemon genetics, social organization, and pre/natal development.

Ah, what avail our lofty engineers
If we can't take the planet by the ears, Or by the poles or simply by the scruff,And saying simply we have had enoughOf routine and monotony on earth,Where nothing's going on but death and birth

The scratchy, bubbling calls drew closer and closer, until Regina's head bolted up off her knees. That wasn't a wild castform -- that was a familiar voice. Cirrus. Her aunt's castform -- well-meaning, obedient, and friendly. Her childhood playmate. Regina smushed her face back into her knees and tried to squirm back further into the bushes. It was almost certainly here to fetch her home. Oh, no... Please don't see me, please don't see me... she begged.

A sandpapery coo, only a few feet away, told her that she would not be so lucky this day.

Regina's temper returned in a flash. "Go away, Cirrus!" she shouted into her folded arms, curling up tighter under the bushes.

Cirrus did not go away. If anything, the castform merely circled closer, cooing in proprietary concern. When it circled close enough, Regina's patience broke and she lashed out, kicking out in Cirrus's direction with one poorly aimed but angry foot. Tiny and mud-splattered and bare, her foot probably wouldn't have done much harm, even to a castform's malleable body, but Cirrus jolted backwards and scolded her with a brief crackling noise.

"Yeah, so what," she shouted back. "I'm not going home, and you can't make me, so just leave me alone."

A young undergraduate student studying pokemon genetics, social organization, and pre/natal development.

Ah, what avail our lofty engineers
If we can't take the planet by the ears, Or by the poles or simply by the scruff,And saying simply we have had enoughOf routine and monotony on earth,Where nothing's going on but death and birth

Ahh, the poor creature, this human child. It was overwrought, and sad, and angry. The castform didn't understand what had happened, or what the biggest little human was upset about, but it understood that much. It certainly didn't understand why the human was angry at it. But it understood what it was to feel misery, and exhaustion, and sadness. Its next coo -- once it was done scolding the little thing for its rudeness, and had sat in silence for a while -- was very quiet, and very gentle.

It took a little while for the biggest little human to stop lashing out when the castform drew close. A few times it just hissed or growled, without even any human babbling in the mix, which was strange. It took longer for the biggest little human to let the castform close enough for it to try a few mantle-cuddles of its own. They only made the poor kid damper, which wasn't a benefit as the rain had slacked off but the wind had picked up, turning chilly and bitter. Hopefully it got a little comfort out of the bargain. A few times the castform heard the little human's stomach growl with hunger, and it began to shake with cold as the temperature dropped and the wind kept up. The rain started again, and that made it only worse.

The sun was falling in the sky by the time the biggest little human moved its clammy limbs, pushed itself up, and stumbled out from under the bushes like a newborn deerling. It was still miserable, though quietly now, and hugged its arms around itself. But when the castform floated up and began urging it in the direction of home with gentle sounds, it allowed this, and went without protest, trudging along shivering and silent except for the hunger growls, echoed by the distant thunder. The lights of home came into view through sheets of rain, and the castform saw the biggest little human into the arms of its caretaker with a pleased gurgle. It didn't understand what was wrong, but surely everything would be made well now.

- - - - - -

Regina fell into her aunt Elise's arms and sniffled, all out of tears. She was wet, she was cold, she was hungry, and her resolve had failed her. She was still angry -- she wasn't sure she'd ever stop being angry -- but she was tired. She just wanted to be home.

She spent that night at her aunt's house, as she had many times in the past, and in the morning, when she woke -- her parents were there.

A young undergraduate student studying pokemon genetics, social organization, and pre/natal development.

Ah, what avail our lofty engineers
If we can't take the planet by the ears, Or by the poles or simply by the scruff,And saying simply we have had enoughOf routine and monotony on earth,Where nothing's going on but death and birth

The conversation that followed was long, and difficult. There was screaming. There were tears. Carefully, eventually, when Regina's energy was exhausted -- though her anger wasn't -- there were hugs. They weren't angry at her, really, and she wasn't angry at them. It was just a bad, ugly situation. There weren't easy answers, or easy questions, or anything that made any kind of sense. Even Regina, who the whole situation was about, couldn't explain. There was only the hot, angry fog in her head, the buzzing uncertainty and the way her bones felt too heavy and too fragile, all at once.

Eventually, her parents looked at each other, and at her aunt who had been busy making them all some hot chocolate and staying out of the way fairly pointedly, and then at Regina herself, and then her mother said, slowly, "You'll stay home from school, for now. We'll talk with the administration and figure things out from there."

Regina couldn't talk -- all the words were caught up somewhere behind her tongue, buried under the nausea and the pounding in her brain. But after she took a second to parse what her mother was saying, she nodded jerkily. They weren't trying to make her go back and do it again -- that was the important bits. Everything else was a fight they could have later, when she felt less like the scraped-out shell of a boiled corphish, when she had words again. She could do that. She could wait.